


The Sound of Broken Mirrors

by bzarcher



Series: The Wizard Triumphant [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Addiction, Assassination, Brainwashing, F/F, Mental Abuse, Odette!AU, Odile!AU, Sensory Deprivation, Talon!Tracer, Talon!Widowmaker, Torture, dark!fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-19
Updated: 2016-10-19
Packaged: 2018-08-23 11:58:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8326996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bzarcher/pseuds/bzarcher
Summary: A dame to kill for, as the joke went. So that’s exactly what Slipstream did, and Odile as well.After all, Talon had brought them together. The least they could do was return the favor.(You asked for a Talon!Tracer fic? By god you will get one.)





	1. Then and Now

**Author's Note:**

> So after requests for me to do a "BAD END" version of [Reclaimation](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8176612), well, here it is. 
> 
> Thanks to my beta readers (W, Mira, Noir, and Nikki) for helping me get this out the door.
> 
> This fic contains referenced and explicit **MAJOR CHARACTER DEATHS** and **MAJOR CHARACTER INJURIES**. It contains **PSYCHOLOGICAL TRAUMA** , **MENTAL ABUSE** , **EMOTIONAL ABUSE** , and **TORTURE**. 
> 
> This is your last warning. Do not call up what you cannot put back down.

Sometimes, when she’s moving between Then and Now, Slipstream sees things. Other times. Other places. Other possibilities.

A night where the wine they ordered hadn’t been drugged. A life where she was just a woman, never a pilot, or a hero, or a weapon. A quiet night where a man with a metal body and an all too human heart crushes her to his chest as she confesses how she feels about him. An afternoon at a massive stadium where she’s running for the pride of her country, cameras flashing from the stands. A busy morning where she’s taking coffee orders and pulling espressos, hoping she’ll be able to get out to a club and unwind that night.

The only constant she can find beyond herself is a graceful woman with a dancer’s soul. Sometimes an enemy, sometimes a friend, many times a lover. The beautiful Frenchwoman’s presence is the only thing that offers Slipstream any reassurance as her mind reverberates between lives she’ll never live.

Then her heart beats again, reality slams back into focus, and Slipstream has work to do.

“I’m being cornered, dammit!” Pulse fire and helix rockets rip into the bricks behind her as she blinks into cover. Slipstream catches her breath and has just enough time to reload before she hears the distinctive bark of short range fusion guns firing at the spot where she’d been standing a heartbeat before. “Suppressive fire would be _lovely_ , darling!”

Odile doesn’t respond immediately with words, but the crack of her rifle is an answer in and of itself. There’s the sound of a heavy pulse rifle clattering to the ground, and a soldier that she used to know swearing in a tight, pain filled voice.

Her marksman’s voice is filled with the satisfaction of a good shot when she finally responds over the comm. “Better, _chérie?”_

“Marvy, thanks,” Slipstream grumbles sarcastically, then listens carefully to the sound of heavy metal feet hitting concrete nearby. “Sounds like the bunny-bot is moving Northeast. Confirm?”

_“Oui._ ”

“Right. Engaging.”

She’s up and running in a flash, letting the accelerator pull her forwards faster than anyone has a right to move, springing up behind the pink mech and its operator before the Korean woman’s wounded partner could shout a warning.

“Special delivery!” The pulse bomb anchors itself to one of the boost thrusters on the machine’s flank, and Slipstream yanks herself back along her own timeline just before the pulse charge detonates. Some part of her worries that when she rewinds, she might accidentally go back so far that she wouldn’t be _her_ anymore. Would she find herself becoming Tracer again? Maybe even wake up as plain old little Lena? Of course, she knows that isn’t possible. Besides, she wouldn’t really want to be either of them anyway.

“Time to go. _Petit lapin_ ’s toy is scrapped, but either your bomb or the mech’s explosion appears to have destabilized the building.”

Slipstream groans, disappointed, “Couldn’t confirm a kill on the meat? Just the metal?” They had been trying to eliminate these two former Overwatch agents for _months_ , and each time Slipstream thought they had the pair cornered they would manage to find a way to escape. “Shame.”

“There’s always tomorrow, _ma belle._ But not if you let a building fall on your head.”

“Right, right…”

Heartbeats later and she’s half a block away, landing on a rooftop where her partner is waiting. Black leather and armor plates covering her icy pale skin, rifle slung over one shoulder, her yellow eyes peering out beneath the opened mask of her avian-styled recon visor.

Gorgeous. A dame to kill for, as the joke went. So that’s exactly what Slipstream did, and Odile as well.

After all, Talon had brought them together. The least they could do was return the favor.


	2. DOSSIERS

_PROJECT_ LATRODECTUS _DOSSIER AND CURRENT STATUS REPORT_ _9/24/75_

Subject One:

LACROIX, Amélie

(AKA LACROIX, Odette

AKA WIDOWMAKER (rev 1.7))

Operational codename: **ODILE**

 _Widow of Overwatch Counter-terrorism chief Gérard Lacroix. Trained in classical ballet at_ Ecole Nationale de Musique, Danse et Art Dramatique _, Annecy, France. Graduate studies,_ Conservatoire Supérieur _, Lyon. Spent 6 years as chorus dancer,_ Ballet de Paris _, before opening private instruction studio._

 _Subject One was previously modified by_ LATRODECTUS _labs in the original Widowmaker program. (225 confirmed kills – see previous dossier.) Emotional attenuation conditioning and combat Kill / Reward feedback loop were co-opted unexpectedly due to prolonged exposure to Overwatch agent Lena Oxton (see further documentation on Subject Two), leading to unexpected malfunction. Physical modifications for slow-twitch muscle response, visual acuity, and expanded lung capacity were left in place by Dr. Angela Ziegler (“MERCY”) in her attempts to reverse conditioning and more obvious modifications. After Subject One was reacquired, the decision was made not to attempt correcting core body temperature, heart rate, and epidermal treatments to original project spec._

_Rather than attempt to suppress emotions again, neuroconditioning was used to heighten subject’s aggression, increase feelings of reliance / dependence on Subject Two, encourage an already latent distrust of her previous memories, and develop disgust towards members of Overwatch in general. Sexual inhibition had already been lowered as a byproduct of initial Widowmaker programming. This was manipulated further to ensure that Subject One would be receptive to planned controls. (Again, ref. Subject Two.)_

_Solo combat performance compared to Widowmaker 1.0 scores: 90% of base spec. Given the new possible mission portfolios (infiltration, close range assassination, honeypot) and potential for integration with Subject Two as a combat unit, this was judged acceptable._

* * *

Subject Two:

OXTON, Lena

(AKA: TRACER)

Operational codename: **SLIPSTREAM**

 _Youngest pilot in RAF history to be awarded the Victoria Cross after critical role in defeat of Omnic attempts to bombard London. Given her pick of next postings, chose_ Empire Test School _,_ RAF Boscombe Down _. Graduated top of class, assigned to_ Spiteful _anti-Omnic support fighter evaluation project. Provided critical feedback on improvements and refinements prior to acceptance of final production model. Seconded to United Nations Omnic Crisis Joint Response Task Force (_ OVERWATCH _), flew 44 successful combat sorties before being offered chief test pilot position, Project_ Slipstream.

 _Disappeared in destruction of_ Slipstream  _prototype due to a malfunction with the aircraft’s experimental teleportation matrix._

_Subject Two was essentially “unstuck” in time as a result. Aging appears to have been arrested at the time of accident. A “chronal containment chamber” was developed by Overwatch scientist WINSTON, to provide stabilization of Subject Two’s physical form in the local timestream. This led to development and implantation of a “chronal anchor” just below Subject Two’s sternum, subsequent design and deployment of “chronal accelerator” harness that allows for limited teleportation, finite manipulation of own time stream. (“Rewinds” beyond 4-5 seconds require significant external power reserves, and strain on both the equipment and subject’s body would pose a high risk of catastrophic failure.) Additional physical modifications deemed unnecessary in light of extant skills and abilities. Recovered equipment was analyzed and improved for lighter weight, better durability, and other combat optimizations._

_Much like Subject One, aggression was increased. Post-Traumatic Stress related to experiences while “chronally disassociated” exploited, lingering resentment towards certain Overwatch teammates heightened. Selective memories triggered to provoke and strengthen her feelings of isolation and discontent after the_ Slipstream _accident, the subject’s feelings of abandonment following UN orders to disband the original organization similarly intensified. Existing feelings of protectiveness / possessiveness towards Subject One were enhanced, inhibitions lowered to aid in establishing mutual biological reward loops in both subjects as part of planned control mechanisms._

Initial conditioning:

_After retrieval by the original Widowmaker control team, both subjects were placed in sensory deprivation environments for over 120 hours, receiving fluids via IV to prevent dehydration. Targeted magnetic pulses were used to stimulate different areas of the brain to disrupt concentration and resistance, with the end goal of inducing a dissociative state and ensure maximum effectiveness of the next stages._

* * *

**Video Records of Initial Processing Attached:**

_Side by side recordings taken from hidden cameras in the tank walls:_

CAPTION: 4 hours

INTERROGATOR: “Who are you?”

Subject One “My name is Odette Lacroix.”

Subject Two: “Tracer.”

CAPTION: 48 hours

INTERROGATOR: “Who are you?”

Subject One “ _Je suis Odette_? _Oui, je suis Odette_.”

Subject Two: “Tracer. Lena? Lena Oxton. Tracer? Lena… lena? I’m Lena.”

CAPTION: 96 hours

INTERROGATOR: “Who are you?”

Subject One: “ _S’il vous plaît dites-moi_.”

Subject Two: “I don’t know.”

INTERROGATOR: (Subject One only): “You are Odile.”

Subject One: “ _Je suis… Odile._ ”

INTERROGATOR: (Subject Two only): “You are Slipstream.”

Subject Two: “…slipstream. i’m slipstream. I **am** Slipstream.”

CAPTION: 122 Hours:

INTERROGATOR: “Who are you?”

Subject One: “Odile.”

Subject Two: “Slipstream.”

INTERROGATOR: “Good. That’s very good. You’re ready to begin.”

* * *

_Continued exposure to hypnotherapy and neuroconditioning followed. Reward sensations were accompanied by previously captured recordings of each woman’s voice to the other, augmented with visual stimuli. Punishments always accompanied by silence. Vitals monitored through process confirmed that both women entered a near-euphoric_ _mental state and associated physical response whenever they believed their counterpart was nearby by the end of the treatment cycle. Perceived removal of the other was accompanied by anxiety, depression, associated symptoms. Physical fail-safe controls developed and implanted into both subjects during this phase of processing._

_Biological reward loops were established once initial programming completed. Successful performance in training exercises resulted in being allowed to see each other for brief periods, but no communication or physical contact. Failures resulted in isolation. Once pattern was established, rewards escalated. Attached video record of first unsupervised interaction is representative of results:_

_Security footage of both subjects being lead down separate hallways. Training officers providing praise for recent efforts, explain a reward is being provided in the adjoining room._

_Subject One is placed in holding room, the door closed behind her. She begins to pace within 30 seconds._

* * *

The door handle on the opposite wall turned, and Odile stopped moving, rotating to face it. The trainer had claimed there would be a reward, but she’s still on her guard. Then the door swings open and her breath catches as a shorter woman comes through, the door closing softly behind her.

“I know you.” Odile _does_ know her. Sees her so often in glimpses and it feels like a part of her she can’t name, and every time the smaller woman is taken away it _hurts_. She stares, losing herself in that dark hair that can never be tamed by any method of styling. Eyes like pools of dark amber, skin dotted with freckles. Lithe muscles beneath her tank top and shorts. The blue gleaming light emitting from her body drawing Odile like a moth to a flame. “I know…” She takes a halting step towards that light, hardly able to believe that she’s _still here_ , that their handlers haven’t separated them yet, that this isn’t a hallucination.

The woman who should be a stranger to her, but isn’t, doesn’t speak in words. Runs to Odile – collides with her – embraces her – arms tight as steel cables. Trailing kisses against the exposed skin of her shoulders and neck, making her skin rise in goosebumps as a sudden heat thrills through her. A wordless moan comes from her as the woman’s slim hands begin kneading up and down her back. She _knows_ her, and all Odile wants to do is be touched, be held, and be _hers_.

Slipstream’s body was aching with _need_ , the way it is every time she sees this woman, those brief moments of contact she’d been allowed were _never_ enough. The taller woman says that she knows her, and part of Slipstream knows that she’s _right_ , but all that matters is that she is _here_ , and all she wants right now is to drown in her presence, to hear that voice that whispers in her dreams, that she hears even when she’s out of sync with the world. She’s desperate to wrap herself around this woman and hear that voice scream and moan and beg for her to _take_.

* * *

_Subjects were sedated and separated after twenty minutes of contact. After regaining consciousness they were informed that a future visit would be allowed in exchange for compliance to commands._

_Once a routine was established for their individual training exercise successes leading to reward sessions, reinforcing the loop (and their dependencies), the subjects were given a joint training exercise._

_Instructions were issued to make it clear that failure to follow commands or complete objectives would be punished. A demonstration was provided to ensure compliance._

* * *

“Just to make it _absolutely clear_ that disobedience will not be tolerated, we want you to understand what form that punishment will take.”

The training officer is in full Talon combat gear, minus a helmet, his face the only exposed skin. A box in his hand has two buttons – both red. Slipstream isn’t too impressed, honestly. Her arms are crossed over her new accelerator (black, of course, because they must be _perfectly clear_ that they’re the baddies, like the rest of Talon’s oh-so-melodramatic kit), hands tucked against her sides, deceptively close to her pistols. Honestly, If she thought it would get them another couple of hours alone with her lover, she’d put a hole right through the bugger’s face. As it is, they’ve been promised _an entire night_ together if they behave, so she’s trying to just keep her gob shut and get on with it.

The training officer holds up the box. “Agent Odile, please turn to watch Agent Slipstream.”

“I thought you said this was would be a punishment?” Odile does as told, teasing her lower lip between her teeth, and Slipstream feels herself twitch. She _knows_ what that does to her, dammit…

There is a sharp clicking noise, and suddenly Slipstream looks down to see her accelerator’s glowing core going dark. Which means her anchor is offline. Which means _she_ is…

_“NON!”_

Odile’s voice stretches like taffy as Slipstream feels herself losing connection to the world around her, an endless scream that echoes in her ears for weeks before she’s suddenly _back_ , dropping to her knees as air rushes back into her lungs, every cell of her body on fire, the tail end of Odile’s shout just leaving her throat.

Slipstream has a moment of confusion when she wants to call her beautiful swan “Odette” instead. That isn’t her name. She knows this. She is _Odile_ , always has been. Always hers. Always perfect. She shakes her head. It’s not important right now. Odile is here and she’s _back_ and she’s not _stuck_ again –

“Agent Slipstream.”

Her head comes up and her eyes bore into the training officer as he stands over her. Any other time, she’d kill the man for what he’d just put her through, but she’s desperate for that promised reward, now. She needs to be alone with her love, and prove that she is still _real_ at the most basic level.

“Agent Slipstream, stand up. Agent Odile, do not move.”

She complies, slowly. Odile is stock still but her eyes searching desperately – _are you still here? Are you real?_ – Slipstream tries to give her as cocky a grin as she can, winking at her from behind the red combat goggles, the smile becoming a bit more genuine as the Frenchwoman’s tense shoulders relax slightly.

“Now, Agent Slipstream, please watch carefully.”

Another click, and Odile drops to the ground like a puppet with cut strings, her limbs spasming, mouth open in a soundless scream.

Slipstream knew something was coming but this is worse than she thought it would be, her gut twisting in sympathetic agony, panic starting to rise in her throat, fingers gripping the pistols and instinctively preparing to draw.

“No, no no no no she’s _MINE_ you can’t –”

“AGENT SLIPSTREAM, **_STAND AT ATTENTION.”_**

She immediately assumes the position, legs straight as rods, arms locked to her sides, and the training officer nods with satisfaction as he releases the button. Odile’s body gives a sickening jerk, and then she is slowly standing back up, assuming the same stance without having to be told, her breathing still ragged but slowly coming under control. She’s got a good poker face, but Slipstream knows what the glint she saw in those yellow eyes means. Poor bastard. Now they _both_ wanted to kill him.

“So, Agent Odile, as you saw, punishment for failures will be the remote deactivation of Agent Slipstream’s anchoring implant. The greater the failure, the greater amount of time it will be left offline.” The training officer turns. “Agent Slipstream, your punishment will be the activation of a pain inducing implant that has been placed against Agent Odile’s spinal cord. Same terms, ladies. You both know that greater success will lead to greater rewards – just remember that greater failures will likewise lead to greater punishments.”

The training officer pauses, then places the box into a holster at his hip. “You are both exceptional agents with exceptional abilities. I take no pleasure in this demonstration, and I expect that you will never require me to use that device again. Talon wants nothing but your loyalty and skills, I assure you. We have great expectations for you, and I believe you can exceed them. Understood?”

Both women immediately salute, their voices as one. “Yes, SIR.”

“Very well. Agent Slipstream, you’re Point. Agent Odile, you’re her Marksman. Begin.”

They complete the training course with some of the highest scores ever recorded, and are rewarded with an extra day together as a bonus.

Two months after their first successful combat sortie, their training officer suffered a fatal accident during a live fire exercise. Their permissions were not revoked, but the new Controllers assigned to their case make it clear that they expected no such “accidents” to befall anyone else.

* * *

**_Current assignment:_ ** _Pursuit and elimination of the remnant Overwatch forces as leads are acquired by Intel Division. When not actively engaged in their primary mission, Subjects One and Two are to be considered “On Call” for deployment as needed to support other Talon operations in the field._

 _Note:_ _Subjects One and Two are not to be deployed with the mercenary codenamed REAPER (AKA REYES, Gabriel) under any circumstances ~~–~~ brief attempts to utilize him as an OpFor against the _ LATRODECTUS _subjects during advanced training exercises resulted in both sides disregarding objectives and doing their level best to kill each other. Were it not for physical controls being engaged on Subjects One and Two to render them compliant, it is this Officer’s opinion that they would have likely found a way to succeed._

**Notable Engagements:**

AMARI, Ana ** _–_** _Deceased_  
FAWKES, Jamison – _Deceased_  
LINDHOLM, Torbjörn – _Deceased_  
MORRISON, John – _Injured, current status UNKNOWN_  
RUTLEDGE, Mako – _Deceased_  
SHIMADA, Hanzo – _Captured, undergoing evaluation_  
SONG, Hana – _Disabled, current status UNKNOWN_  
VASWANI, Satya – _Captured, remanded to custody of VISHKAR CORPORATION_  
WILHELM, Reinhardt – _Deceased  
_ ZHOU, Mei-Ling – _Deceased_


	3. Shards and Fragments

Both women started to remember things from their old lives after a time. Slipstream had her first big breakthrough after the mission where they’d killed the two Junkers.

Odile and Slipstream had gotten the job done in Oz, then crashed for a nap while they were flown back to the Talon base where they were kept. They’d sat through a boring debriefing with their Controllers, then been returned to their private quarters after checking in their combat equipment, an apartment that Odile and Slipstream had been provided as a reward for successfully killing their first two Overwatch targets a few months ago.

(The Talon brass acted like it was a major achievement, but most of their training exercises had been more challenging. The little Chinese girl had been cute, but almost depressingly easy for Odile to snipe once Slipstream flushed her out of cover, and the slow little dwarf hadn’t been much of anything for Slipstream to deal with once his turrets had been blasted apart at range.)

 After a hot shower to sluice the Outback dust off and changing into fresh clothes, Slipstream had been running through the best parts of the mission again, the stream of commentary flowing as she constructed a massive sandwich to sate her relentless metabolism, Odile sipping a glass of wine at their kitchen table while she flipped through a magazine.

“Nasty little fuck always kept beggin’ to have a look at my pulse bombs, didn’t he? Hope he liked the up close and personal show, this time!” She giggled, remembering the look of dawning horror on the Australian’s face when she’d stuck the bomb to his forehead, then shook her head. “Don’t even know why anyone put up with him for as long as they did! God, never wearing a shirt, always smelling like a dumpster fire, and for someone who claimed to be a pooftah, he wouldn’t _ever_ stop looking at my tits!”

“That never matters, _chérie_ ,” Odile replied absently, taking a sip of her wine, “when I was in school, every single boy in my dance classes was a _chasseur_ , but they’d never fail to stare.”

The smaller woman giggled again as she took a bite of her food, then blinked with a sudden look of confusion on her face, almost choking on the mouthful of meat and bread before forcing herself to swallow. “What was I just _saying_?” Slipstream dropped the sandwich, letting it fall to the plate as she put a hand to her head. “Where did that come from? How did I know all that? How did _you_ know that other stuff?”

Odile just shrugged. “I have difficulty remembering much of anything before Talon, but sometimes things slip out. You’ve done the same before, _ma coeur_.”

Slipstream shook her head. “Yeah, no, I barely remember anything, you know that. Just… bits. Like fish and chips, remember? I remembered how much I liked fish and chips after we ate some during that recon job in Glasgow. Stuff like that. What I started saying there felt different, though. Not sure what it was.”

Odile shrugged. “I can drive myself mad trying to understand all the different things I see when I sleep, or I can just get on with my life.” Her eyes were half-lidded as she gazed over the wine glass at her lover. “Since that includes getting on with you, I prefer that option.”

“Hah.” Slipstream finished half the sandwich before she’d decided what to say. “I guess it doesn’t matter, really, does it? Not like we’re going to run into either of those filthy bastards again. Not with one missing a head and the other with a barn door where his chest used to be.”

“I should be exceedingly surprised,” Odile agreed as she stood up from the table, “finish up your snack, _belle fille._ ” She walked back towards their bedroom, running her fingers over Slipstream’s naked shoulder. “I have something else in mind to eat.”

* * *

In the end, they’d both started to receive more and more flashes of memories. Some they told each other about. Some they didn’t.

A bed covered in blood, the occupant’s head shattered beneath a pillow.

A cockpit dissolving into nothingness.

A fight on a rooftop.

Skin turned deathly blue instead of ivory white.

A Christmas party with the dwarf they’d killed dressed up as Santa Claus.

Dancing across a stage, music swelling beneath her feet.

Weeping over the body of an Omnic with a sniper’s bullet through his cranium.

By the time Slipstream remembered who Lena Oxton had been, she far preferred staying as she was. She fought, she killed, she won, and then she _went home_ and got on with her life. Slipstream didn’t mope about things out of her control, she didn’t try to pretend to be sweetness and light for everyone else’s benefit, and she sure as fuck didn’t wear a sixty- _fucking_ -pound vest of combat kit 24/7, thank you _very_ much.

Lena was so scared of everything that she’d invented Tracer to protect herself. Scared she’d never fly again. Scared of what she’d become. Scared of disappearing. Scared of failing. Scared of succeeding. Scared of losing. Scared of trying. Scared of living. Scared of dying.

What had all that fear that gotten her? Dead, that’s what. Slipstream, on the other hand, was a lot of things, but she was most certainly _alive._

In Odile’s case, as pieces of her (two? three? four?) previous personalities and their memories slowly settled into a reasonably cohesive whole, she’d finally decided that if her life came down to her mind being torn apart and reassembled at someone else’s whims, she might as well have Slipstream to sweeten the deal. There was a lot to be said for having a partner who protected and loved her so fiercely and unconditionally.

Besides, one thing her previous self hadn’t really considered when she’d chosen a new name was that Odette had _lost_. Betrayed by her Siegfried, left trapped within her cursed body, or dead – depending on your interpretation – but she always, _always_ lost.

Meanwhile, the sorcerer’s daughter _survived_ , and with all the rest gone, likely inherited the kingdom. Odile could live with that. There was quite a lot to be said for being a survivor, too.

The idea of either of them being “fixed” and made into someone else once again became as quietly terrifying to them as the idea of being separated again. When the two women finally discussed their shared fears they’d agreed that if Mercy ever got her hands on either of them, both possibilities were quite likely, and the slowly dwindling roster of Overwatch would cheer her on. (Assuming one of the “heroes” didn’t just put a bullet in the back of each of their skulls and save Angela the trouble of trying.)

With that on the table, they had decided it was far better for them to kill than be killed, so they served Talon.

Odile and Slipstream didn’t feel any particular loyalty to Talon’s goals or devotion to their ideology, but the terrorist organization had given them a home, ensured they had no particular wants for money or goods, and left both of them reasonably free to do as they liked when not “on the job.”

They were together.

They had a purpose.

They had a _life_.

It was enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, is it weird to do an AU to your own AU? Yes. Almost certainly. But this was interesting to write! Not my usual thing at all, and quite appropriate for Halloween - but unlike many other pieces, I can say I don't plan to come back here for quite some time...


End file.
